


Companionable Silence

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Spirit Healer Hawke [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Age Difference, Arguing, Banter, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 06:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20792288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: “Some comfort you are.”“If you wanted comfort, you wouldn’t come to me,” Fenris said.





	Companionable Silence

“Do you think I’m a spoilt brat?” Carver asked. He was sprawled out on the bed, his boots by the door, and Fenris didn’t look up from the book he was struggling with.

“Yes,” he said. 

“Some comfort you are.”

“If you wanted comfort, you wouldn’t come to me,” Fenris said, and he glanced up as Carver laid on his side, watching Fenris. His jaw was set, his lips a thin line, and as ever Fenris could see the sad look in his eyes, ever the victim of his own misfortune, as if his troubles were the worst in the world. 

He was too young. That much was clear to Fenris, that he was too young - nineteen years old and desperate to prove he was old enough, big enough, strong enough for anything. The attitude made him seem even younger, Fenris thought.

Time after time, he came to Fenris, sat with him in the dark, drank wine that made him wince and wrinkle his nose, laid on Fenris’ bed with his arms crossed over his chest, sulking for some hours at a time. It was better than the Hanged Man, Fenris supposed, where Varric or Isabela would tease him, and he sought to avoid his mother and uncle as best he could. Carver wasn’t well-disposed to teasing, nor indeed to sympathy.

Fenris had yet to discover what it was he _was_ well-disposed to, if anything.

“I could _be_ something, you know,” Carver said. 

“Then be,” Fenris replied.

“You say it like it’s easy.”

“There is no easy path,” Fenris said, shrugging his shoulders. “There is only the path.”

“You sound like a prick when you talk like that.”

“Why should I try to sound otherwise?”

“What, you _want_ to be a prick?”

“I don’t know what I want to be,” Fenris said, idly turning a page. “Only that I do _not_ want to be a slave.”

“Then why not hide--”

“I will not discuss this again with you,” Fenris growled, and Carver was quiet, watching him in silence. 

It was plain what it was he sought. He watched Fenris with admiration when they fought in battle, and yet there was nothing truly lascivious in the way he watched him. He was clumsy and new in his desires, his wants as a man, practising with tavern girls and the denizens of the Blooming Rose. He was blunt at times, too shy at others, struggling with directness, struggling even more with charm, as a blade without an edge.

Too young. Far too young. Too young, as yet, to know what it was he wanted, perhaps, when he sat in the silence with Fenris for hours at a time, grasping so desperately for what companionship he might find. 

“Prick,” he muttered.

“Brat,” Fenris retorted.

Carver rolled over, and in the polished shine of one of the mirrored frames, still hanging on the wall, Fenris saw him smile. Fenris turned his gaze, resolutely, to the book that was making his head ache. Companionable silence was a better catalyst than any. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to hit up [my ask on Tumblr,](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask) to talk about DA in general, and definitely to recommend blogs to follow! I am open for requests (for Origins, II, and Inq). Please comment if you can!


End file.
